sfiguring him, seeing in him the royal prince that he
should be; so thoroughly did she live in the absolute certainty of the
entire realisation of her dream, sooner or later.

"No," she repeated in a half-whisper, "we should not have the needed
time."

And without lifting her eyes she continued, as if speaking to herself:

"For the saint, we could use neither the close embroidery nor the lace
openwork. It would not be worthy of her. It should be an embroidery in
gold, shaded by silk."

"Exactly," said Felicien. "That is what I had already thought of, for
I knew that Mademoiselle had re-found the secret of making it. There is
still quite a pretty little fragment of it at the sacristy."

Hubert was quite excited.

"Yes, yes! it was made in the fifteenth century, and the work was done
by one of my far-off ancestresses. . . . Shaded gold! Ah, Monsieur,
there was never anything equal to that in the whole world. But,
unfortunately, it took too much time, it cost altogether too dear, and,
in addition, only a real artist ever succeeded in it. Think of it; it
is more than two hundred years since anyone has ever attempted such
embroidery. And if my daughter refuses, you will be obliged to give it
up entirely, for she is the only person who is qualified to undertake
it. I do not know of anyone else who has the delicacy of fingers and the
clearness of eye necessary for it."

Hubertine, who, since they had spoken of the style of the work, realised
what a great undertaking it was, said, in a quiet, decided tone:

"It would be utterly impossible to do it in a fortnight. It would need
the patience and skill of a fairy to accomplish it."

But Angelique, who had not ceased studying all the features of the
beautiful martyr, had ended by making a discovery which delighted
her beyond expression. Agnes resembled her. In designing from the old
statue, Felicien certainly thought of her, and this idea--that she
was in his mind, always present with him, that he saw her
everywhere--softened her resolution to avoid him. At last she looked up;
she noticed how eager he was, and his eyes glistened with so earnest
a supplication that she was conquered. Still, with the intuitive
half-malice, the love of tormenting, this natural science which comes to
all young girls, even when they are entirely ignorant of life, she did
not wish to have the appearance of yielding too readily.

"It is impossible," she repeated. "I could not do it for anyone."